My Week In TV

It is a staple in the diet of the unemployed to consume as much terrible television as possible. As an unemployed person with their fate in the hands of the recruitment agency gods, I have abided by the unemployment bible and consumed as much shit TV as I can this week. I am positively plump with awfulness which includes, but is not in any way limited to: Snog Marry Avoid, Benefits Street, The Undateables, Eastenders, and all daytime shows on E4, comprising mostly of some trollop called Revenge where everyone is rich and hiding a big secret and shagging each other, which is very similar to every other E4 drama.

When I decided to write a TV blog post, I thought, “I’m going to WATCH television like it’s my JOB”,and so every day I put on my uniform – pyjama bottoms, a hoodie, no bra and my duvet – and I’d watch TV like a drooling vegetable, making extensive notes like this:



Sometimes the TV even made me feel better. It reminded me that no matter how bad things get, it could always be worse. Case in point: What Happens in Sunny Beach…


Yeah, ok, so I haven’t had a proper need to brush my hair or wear pants for the past three weeks, but at least my mum won’t have to watch a fermented version of myself stumbling around on a beach, my breast breaking free from my bikini top as I choke on a pair of Cool Whip-slathered testicles for a free fishbowl.

I’m also very grateful that I am not one of the girls that has had sex with either of these total boner pups:

Having obviously skipped their sex ed classes to smoke paper round the back of the bike sheds and throw wet tampons at the bathroom ceiling, it comes as no surprise that these two “can’t do it” when it comes to condom etiquette. Look at the one on the right, he can’t even dress himself properly, poor git.

At one point some girl get completely naked on a bar for a competition. Now, this may be a sign of my age, but if there was anything that would put me off going into a bar it’s a girl slut dropping completely naked just inches away from my Woo Woo.

But to anyone that now feels infinitely depressed about our generation, I say: never fear, Gloria Steinem Y2K is here:



AKA Dr Drew’s Sex Rehab without Dr Drew or any effort to maintain abstinence.

Not content on Lee Ryan getting all the attention for being the biggest Fidiot (fucking idiot) in the Big Brother twatisphere are fellow BB bumholes, sex addict Luisa Zissman, and hat novice Dappy, who wears his creepy moustache like some kind of terrible lip-liner.


Dappy Constavavalanostos; musical skidmark and drug-dealing son of Disney’s Jafar, was arguing with Zissman mere hours before. But as if by some Big Brother MIRACLE they’re now getting along like a house of fire; licking each other’s nipples, shoving their crotches into each other’s faces and talking about sex and banging and blowjobs or something. I don’t know. The sexual frivolity all blurs into one big licentious blob in the end. Where’s Lionel Blair’s shower tossjob? That’s my question.

Lee Ryan’s stint in the big brother house has not been bad for everyone involved, it would seem. Fellow boyband derp Duncan James – also known as the only man to occupy every grade of the Kinsey scale depending on how much media coverage he’s receiving – has been back allowed into several Z-lister clubs with Lee’s omelette-whisking companion, Masterchef Jasmine Waltz.

Duncan has described the accusations that he and Lee had some sort of romantic tryst during their time in Blue as “laughable”. I wouldn’t quite say that they were laughable myself, considering that Lee has admitted to experimenting with men and Duncan has the ability to switch to Kinsey Six when needs be.


The Voice was another show I enjoyed this week, but not because of all this singing and life-changing bollocks. My favourite part of The Voice is watching new co-host Marvyn Humes’ utterly insincere begs for a chair spin to the judges whilst standing awkwardly with the families of the musical hopefuls. He seems wholly uncomfortable and unnatural in his role as a male cheerleader. Watch this:

Or, if you can’t be bothered to watch my badly put together Marvyn Montage, watch this Marvyn vine, which is just as poorly done but much shorter.

I also watched the news. The news is rarely quite so comedic, but when THIS story came to light…

….it was hard not to laugh, but in a disbelieving and frustrated way; the kind I do when trying to help my mum send an email.  

This old todger believes that the UK storms and floods were caused by gay people being happy and marrying each other. Apparently the letter containing David Silvester’s pious plop and monochromatic view of the world was delivered to David Cameron in April 2012, probably by carrier pigeon or telegram. Mr Silvester said that he predicted severe weather conditions were due to occur when same-sex marriage was to be legalised. I wonder if he predicted the massive shit storm caused by such a homophobic forecast, too.

Also Justin Bieber was arrested for drink-drag racing but no one gives a shit.


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